


A Challenge

by VampyrePrince



Series: Unrequited [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Oral Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is under the false impression that all is well, and that John is okay with a bit of bromance between them. After the doctor has a mild anxiety attack when Sherlock tries to make a move on him, Sherlock becomes disheartened and angry at John for playing with his feelings, and begins to regret ever admitting his feelings. It was, after all, human error.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Best to read part 1 to fully understand this one.
> 
> DubCon! I don't know if that's a legit warning or not, but John most definitely doesn't want anything to happen between him and Sherlock, but as DubCon suggests he finds that it isn't quite so bad in the end :) Also, angst angst angst. I am on a roll with the Johnlock angst and I don't know why. I blame His Last Vow, which if you haven't watched, beware because there may be a few minor spoilers in here.

_Click. Click. Click click click. Beep!_

“Sherlock what in the hell are you doing?!” John whipped around from examining the dead body at his feet to see his best friend holding a digital camera, and it wasn't pointing in the right direction. It was pointing straight at his face, and he was momentarily blinded as the flash went off in his eyes. He sighed deeply and pushed his irritation to the side. “You're supposed to be taking pictures of that,” he pointed to the body below them, “not me.” 

The detective smirked and took one last picture of John's frowning face before he continued with his work, which he just didn't seem to be into that day. John hadn't been the only one to notice; the few members of Scotland Yard that were present watched Sherlock with utmost interest as he darted around the crime scene, a rare gleam of happiness in his eyes as he practically danced across the moldy wooden floorboards. 

Lestrade cleared his throat uncomfortably and slid beside John, leaning over to speak in a hushed voice. “Something the matter with him?” A light blush lit across John's cheeks at the question.

“I dunno, maybe he's sick?”

“Sick. Right. You sure you don't know what's going on? I mean, you know the man better than any of us do.”

“I said I don't know alright?” A very tense silence fell between the two men as they came to a silent agreement to drop the subject. John had said it a bit louder than intended, but the last thing he needed was for anyone to think that something was going on between him and Sherlock. Which there wasn't. It had only been one very awkward kiss a few nights ago, and neither of them had spoken about it since. Sherlock, however, had taken up to studying John more than usual. And now there he was, snapping pictures again from across the room. John had a sudden urge to burn that damned camera.

“Got anything?” Lestrade shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked back over to his spot beside Anderson, who was just as confused as everyone else. Sherlock walked briskly across the room to the detective inspector and pocketed the camera.

“I just need a few more minutes. Alone if you don't mind.” Lestrade stared at the man incredulously, then shook his head and waved for the group to leave. 

“Five minutes Sherlock, and not a moment more.” Sherlock attempted the best smile he could give, which ended up being more frightening than reassuring. He watched impatiently as the small group exited the room, then glanced over to John, who was standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration as he observed the body before him.

“So, what do you think?” John looked up as Sherlock spoke, realizing very quickly that they were now alone. For some reason being alone with Sherlock put him on edge lately, and he knew it was a ridiculous thing to feel. Sherlock would never take advantage of him or force him into anything. So why was he so nervous?

“Well... judging by the spattering of blood the victim was standing close to the wall, possibly with his back turned on his attacker. Maybe he didn't know what was coming.”

“Good.” Sherlock's footsteps echoed throughout the room as he slowly approached John, his hand gripped tightly around the camera in his pocket. “What was the murder weapon?”

“We haven't found one yet, so it must have been disposed of somewhere else to avoid being identified for fingerprints.”

“Yes, but continuing with your assessment, what do you believe caused that amount of damage?”

“I dunno, possibly a...” John twisted and turned as he looked for any hint at an object missing from where it should have been, but the place was such a mess that it was nearly impossible. He settled back on the mess of a cranium that was left on the poor victim's body. “... a blow to the skull with a blunt object obviously. A metal bat?”

Sherlock chuckled and stood directly in front of John, stepping over the body on the floor to close the distance between them. “Close.” Sherlock's voice lowered seductively as he looked into John's eyes. “A blunt hit to the back of the head with a shotgun. Repeatedly it would seem.” The doctor swallowed hard as he recognized the look in Sherlock's eyes. It was the very same one that he had seen the night they kissed. 

“Sherlock, no.”

“What are you saying no for? I haven't said anything yet.”

“You don't need to. That was one time, one. Just to get it out of your system. I told Mary, by the way.” The smile dropped from Sherlock's face and he grew cold.

“I imagine that didn't go over well.”

“No, quite the opposite actually. She told me that she-” John's cheeks turned pink again and he tried to focus on something, anything besides his now very shocked friend. “She said it was a long time coming, whatever the hell she meant by that.” A smile crept involuntarily across John's lips before he fell into a fit of giggles. He had expected Mary to be pissed, worried that he was cheating on her. In fact she had lit up and asked him how it was. Actually fucking asked if Sherlock Holmes was a good kisser. He hadn't known how to respond, other than to just disappear in utter embarrassment into their bedroom to catch up on his sleep. He didn't hear the end of it, and she was still teasing him about it. 

The color had finally returned to Sherlock's face and he stared down at John, who was getting out the last of his giggles. “So it's fine, then. Mary doesn't mind if...” John held up a finger to stop the detective's line of thought. 

“No, don't even go there. Just because Mary doesn't mind us snogging doesn't mean I want to keep doing it.” Sherlock's eyes lowered and he suddenly looked like a spoiled child who had got his candy taken from him.

“You enjoyed it. Don't lie.”

“Now is not the time to be discussing this.”

“There is nothing to discuss. It was quite obvious.” Sherlock leaned into John and gently bit his ear while trailing a hand down his chest. It caught the doctor off guard, so much so that he nearly lost his balance and fell backward. He found it hard to breathe, his pulse rate increasing so rapidly that he thought his heart would burst. He was starting to have an anxiety attack. It had been ages since he'd had a full blown episode, and it most certainly wasn't from something as simple as being groped by another person. Well, another man. 

“Sh-Sherlock. Don't. Please, just don't.” The taller man stopped immediately, most likely noticing the sudden change in John's demeanor. It wasn't just nerves plaguing him, he was actually panicking.

“John I'm... I'm sorry. Forgive me. I thought that it would be... you know, fine.” The doctor swallowed hard, a dry spot having formed in his throat. He was trying to calm his breathing and closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them to see Sherlock's concerned face. 

“No, don't be sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have given you false hope. I was just letting you have your moment, but I see now that was wrong. I'm sorry, I can't keep doing this with you. You're my best friend, Sherlock. I can't go beyond that.” The doctor turned and brushed past his friend, not wanting to look back to see the disappointment in the detective's face. He felt like shit, and he knew he had made the biggest mistake ever. He had compromised their friendship. He should have just accepted the fact that Sherlock loved him and left it at that. 

* * *

Sherlock entered the flat alone, tossing his coat into a heap on the floor by the door before falling into his chair. He sunk down low into the cushions, staring at the red armchair sitting before him. Human error. That's all it was. He had fallen victim to his own theory of human error. He had let himself believe that John would, just maybe, reciprocate his feelings. They had been so close for years, lived together for so long. There had to be something there, something that John wasn't willing to admit but Sherlock was. He was only fooling himself now. 

He huffed and leaned over to rest his head in his hands. He felt the urge to vomit, his stomach starting to churn from the unwanted stress. A lump was forming in his throat and tears threatened to surface, but he wouldn't let them. He was Sherlock Holmes and he was stronger than that. He didn't cry for anyone, at least not anymore. He had come back to life for John, cared only about John and his happiness for the past few months. He had poured his heart into a best man's speech that he had worked on for hours, just to get it right because it was John's wedding day, and John needed to know how much he was loved in return. He even killed a man, no, murdered a man to keep John and Mary safe. He gave everything and tried so hard to become a better person for the only person he loved, truly loved in this world. But he was too late.

Sherlock was brought out of his melancholy by the cheerful 'woohoo!' of Mrs. Hudson's presence, the landlady peeking her head into the flat to check up on her boys. “Oh, where's John?”

“Had to leave early. Wanted to check on Mary.” Mrs. Hudson watched Sherlock with sympathy as he straightened and stared blankly towards the kitchen.

“She's got pretty far along, hasn't she? Looks like she's about to pop.” The elderly woman took John's chair across from Sherlock, eyeing him with motherly concern. “What's wrong, Sherlock?”

“Nothing I wish to discuss with you. Shouldn't you be making tea?” 

“Now no need to be rude. I have a feeling I know what's going on.” Sherlock finally focused on his landlady and put up his guard.

“You do?”

“It's obvious you fancy John, you know. It's a shame. You boys were always so wonderful together.”

“Mrs. Hudson wouldn't you be much more useful in the kitchen?” Sherlock snarled the degrading remark and stood, crossing the floor to his bedroom and slammed the door. The older woman, who was used to Sherlock's verbal abuse, just shrugged her shoulders and sighed, lifting herself from John's chair and made her way into the kitchen to make some tea. She knew her boys would work things out eventually, they always did in the end. 

* * *

The next morning Sherlock found himself dragging his feet into Scotland Yard. He had figured out most of the puzzle on their latest case, and all that was left was to find the perpetrator. Normally that would have been good news, but for Sherlock on that particular morning it only meant one thing: John would be there too, and he had to put walls back up that he had torn down. He slid his hands into his pockets as he crossed the threshold, then realized that the digital camera he had used the day before was still there. He reluctantly pulled the device from his coat pocket and turned it on, immediately being greeted by John's confused face as he was blinded by the flash. A small smile slid across Sherlock's lips but vanished just as quickly. He turned off the camera without flipping through the rest of the pictures and placed it back in his pocket. He would decide what to do with the images later. For now, he had information to report.

“About time you arrived. Been waiting all morning.” Lestrade removed his feet from his desk and set his doughnut and coffee down. Sherlock rolled his eyes and slid into the small office.

“And by 'all morning' you mean a few hours.” His whole body stiffened at once when he set eyes on John, who was sitting in a chair opposite Greg sipping on some coffee. “Good morning.”

“Morning. Want some breakfast? Greg's sharing his doughnuts with everyone.”

“Don't have time. I have other things to do, so if we could please get this over with as quickly as possible.” A look of confusion crossed John's features as Sherlock's unfamiliar tone met his ears. 

“Oh... okay. I'll just give you some space, then.” The doctor stood, thanked Lestrade for the breakfast, then slid past Sherlock, who shrunk back against the door to keep their arms from brushing against one another. He lifted an eyebrow before disappearing from sight completely, two and two starting to come together in his brain. 

Greg watched the both of them with interest, then turned to Sherlock once John was out of earshot. “What in the hell has been going on with you two? You've been acting like a couple of children since yesterday afternoon.”

“Lestrade, if we could get to the point of my visit that would be wonderful.” The detective inspector was silent for a moment, mildly irritated that no one seemed to be able to give him a full answer. He at least thought that John wouldn't leave him in the dark, but whatever was going on between the two was obviously something he probably didn't want to know about. 

“Right. Anyway, what have you got for me?”

* * *

John jumped up from his seat once Sherlock exited the building, trailing after him in long strides to keep up. The detective pretended not to notice his friend's existence, but John wasn't going to be cast off that easily. The doctor grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back before they reached the curb. “What is going on with you? If this is about yesterday I'm sorry, okay? Can we just get back to the way things used to be? Stop acting like a couple of teenagers about this?”

“Sure.” John let go of Sherlock's coat and eyed him suspiciously.

“Really? You mean that.”

“If it will allow me to hail my cab and return home, then yes.” John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Alright. You, me, Baker Street. Now.” As much as Sherlock wanted to be defiant, just start walking and forget about the cab, he found himself standing still and waiting for the inevitable. It didn't take amazing powers of deduction to know that there was about to be a very nasty fight between them, one that he hoped Mrs. Hudson wouldn't be home to hear. He was not looking forward to it. 

As a cab pulled up to the curb the two climbed in and sat as far from each other as possible, neither looking at the other as they focused on the scenery the entire way back to the flat. No words passed between them, not even a sideways glance. Sherlock was cursing himself for being so idiotic by confessing his feelings to John. He couldn't even look at the man now knowing he made a complete fool out of himself. He should have known better. Mycroft would have already had a heyday with this one. _'I told you so, Sherlock.'_ He could not handle that right now.

After what seemed like the longest cab ride they'd ever shared together, both men silently approached the building, Sherlock going first through the familiar black door and John following silently after. When they both reached the top of the stairs they shrugged off their coats and stood in the center of the room, neither wanting to speak first. John decided to take the initiative. “Look, I know what I did was wrong. I should have never done that to you. How many times do you want me to apologize?”

“I was under the impression that I didn't even want to have this discussion. You're the only one craving the argument.” Sherlock turned to stare John down, his eyes cold and calculating as they usually appeared during a crime scene. It chilled John to the core to be on the receiving end of such a gaze, especially coming from someone that he cared so much about. It hurt the doctor deep down knowing how badly Sherlock was suffering inside. The detective had gone against everything he believed in to fall in love with John, only for his feelings to get toyed with, which John hadn't intended. He thought they had come to an understanding. That nothing was going to happen and it was just one kiss. The damn kiss that started everything.

“We need to talk about this. I don't want to lose you as a friend. You mean a lot to me, regardless of what you may think right now.” 

“Don't do this to me, John. You've already pissed me off enough for one day.”

“I'm trying to fix it if you'll let me. I know I was in the wrong. I was a fucking twat about the whole thing. Why can't we just forget about it and move on?” Sherlock crossed the room and backed John against the door to the flat, causing it to shut the rest of the way rather loudly. Mrs. Hudson was already clacking up the steps in worry. John felt the doorknob turn into his back, and a light pressure as the door was pushed against him. 

“Are you boys alright? I heard the door slam.” 

“Fine, Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock glared down at John, who was practically sweating to death in his now much-too-warm jumper. “Be a dear and go back downstairs, will you?” Ah, sarcasm. He was really pissed. 

“Alright. If you need anything just call.” John wanted very much to call her right back, but he couldn't find his voice. All he could manage was to stare into Sherlock's icy gaze and remain as calm as possible. He could feel another anxiety attack coming on, and he was starting to get irritated at the fact that he only got them around Sherlock anymore. Things weren't supposed to be like this. 

“You're nervous. Another anxiety attack?” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow and smirked. “You're afraid of me now?”

“No, no I'm not. I'm just a bit uncomfortable with... this.”

“I'm not even touching you. Does the very sight of me upset you?”

“Sherlock, you are not acting like yourself. You're scaring me. Let's just sit down over a cuppa and figure this out, okay? Maybe we can work something out.”

“What could we possibly work out that will solve this.” Sherlock pressed himself against John's body, his half hard erection tight against John's midsection. “I highly doubt there is anything you'd be willing to do to solve this problem we've created.” 

John clenched his teeth as he felt Sherlock's hot breath across his face, his body now starting to tremble. “Sherlock, please.” He drew in a sharp breath as the detective set his lips against his neck, trailing light kisses up to his ear. The doctor felt teeth clamp down gently on his earlobe and it sent shivers down his spine. He tried to suppress a groan as Sherlock trailed his tongue along the outline of his ear, his breath ticking the side of the doctor's warm face. John's body was beginning to betray him as it reacted to all of the pleasant sensations, and he found that it only irritated him further. “Sherlock, stop.”

“You can tease me but I can't tease you? That's rather unfair.” He bit down hard on John's neck, causing an involuntary moan to escape John's lips.

“Fuck Sherlock.” The detective grinned against John's skin and thrust his hips forward.

“I highly doubt you'd allow that. However...” John was momentarily relieved as Sherlock released him and sunk to his knees. It took a moment for the doctor's brain to process what exactly was happening, his eyes opening wide as his brain finally caught up with him. Sherlock's hands were already on his belt, then unfastening the button on his jeans. The doctor was frozen, uncertain of what to do. He was definitely hard by now, although why he didn't quite understand. Normally the idea of another man doing anything remotely similar would have done nothing, put him off even, but as he dared to glance down at his friend who's face was much too close to his own erection he found that he really didn't care. He'd heard before about things like angry sex, about how it was supposed to make things more intense and much better. But this wasn't even sex. It was...

 _'Oh god. Sherlock is... he's going to seriously suck you off right now. Is this really happening? He's got to be fucking with you.'_ “Sherlock? OH God!” John's head hit the door with a dull thud has he threw it back, a warm, soft mouth now completely engulfing his cock. Jesus fucking Christ it felt amazing. His hands were instantly in Sherlock's dark curls, squeezing them as he felt those wonderful lips sliding around the head and then back down again; as he added suction that created the most obscene noises. 

John whimpered and rocked his hips forward as Sherlock took him deep into his throat. He glanced down to see Sherlock with his eyes tightly shut before withdrawing and leaving a string of saliva coming off of his lips. The detective made an odd noise to keep from gagging, then took John's cock into his mouth again, sucking fast and hard. He wanted to bring John crumbling to his knees. No one fucked with Sherlock and got away with it, not even John.

“Fuck, fuck, Sherlock, I'm coming!” John tried to pull back, but his hips were held firmly in place as Sherlock dug his fingers into John's flesh. The detective groaned as come covered his tongue and slid down his throat, the bitter taste not bothering him in slightest as he swallowed every last bit until John finally started to soften. He drew back and wiped his mouth with his thumb, running his tongue along his bottom lip to catch the few drops that had leaked out of his mouth. 

They remained there like that for some time, Sherlock staring up into John's eyes with a renewed fire. The doctor found it difficult to breathe normally again, his lungs practically burning from nearly hyperventilating earlier. He slid down the door to sit before Sherlock, who had crawled over and wrapped his arms around his best friend's neck. He set his lips by John's ear and whispered in a strained voice: “I love you John. I love you so much. Don't. Fuck. With. Me. Again.” 

“I don't...” John took a deep breath and tried to slow his beating heart. “I don't think we're going to have that problem.” 

“What do you mean?” Sherlock lifted his head to stare at John in a mixture of fear and confusion. The doctor smiled and ruffled Sherlock's hair.

“I mean you've got me convinced.”

“How have I convinced you? I did just force myself upon you.”

“It was fucking amazing. Gay or not.” Sherlock smiled and sat back, a smug look crossing his face.

“Well, does Mary do that for you?”

“No, actually, she doesn't.” 

They both shared a laugh before John leaned forward and captured Sherlock's lips with his, who accepted the gesture gratefully, deepening the kiss until they were both nearly out of breath again. When they surfaced for air John glanced down at Sherlock's trousers. “Um, you can, you know, if you want to.” 

The detective blushed and stood, holding out a hand for John as soon as he refastened his jeans. “I'll take care of it. I don't want to force too much on you in one evening.”

“You're implying there are going to be more evenings like this?” Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and slowly turned around to head for his bedroom. 

“You said that, John.”

“You twat!” John smiled as he watched Sherlock disappear into his bedroom, and decided to take his place in his red chair. He grabbed a newspaper and tried to read through some of the articles, but the moaning that was coming from Sherlock's bedroom was becoming much too distracting. He was doing it on purpose. This was becoming a challenge, and John knew it. He didn't exactly know how he felt about it still, or if he would even react in the same way again, but he was a tiny bit curious to find out. So he wasn't completely straight. That was fine. And apparently it was fine with Mary as well. She seemed to know something he didn't anyway, and he would just leave it at that.

They were going to have a very interesting conversation tomorrow.


End file.
